li(k)es, a holby city fanfic

EDIT: forgot to post it here.

Okay this one is old, like really old. I've written 99% of this 4 or so months ago. Barely touched it, only needed to tweak a few things and can still pretend it's fresh and apparently still somewhat relevant. The only thing I'm ignoring is the patient in Lisbon. Pretty sure she's not a red herring and she finally has a name (yay!) but that's about all. I mean almost 7 months have passed now and we still don't know much about Gaskell, his backstory, motives etc (how long can the writers keep this up this is getting old...). Until this show finally decides to deal with him properly, I'm going to wallow in self indulgence and pretend this is canon. This turned out to be darker than I'm used to, but since this is Gaskell we're talking about nothing is off limits.

The time line here is likely botched since I fail at math and deduction and can't make any sense of Hanssen's past.

The new student that arrives at midterm is reserved, speaks with a slight accent and aces every test. Whispers travel across the university. He freezes when someone mentions any parents or a baby, grimaces whenever he sees a blond haired woman with fair eyes.

"He doesn't do that with me," Roxanna says, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, but that's because you're special." He means it. Apart from his parents and his siblings, she's one of the few people he trusts implicitly.

She pretends to think, then nods and accepts a kiss on the cheek.

But she's right. He smiles at her, has a dry humor, and accompanies her to class.

When John wants to know the secret she only winks and makes a zipping gesture.

John tries on his own. Grins, small talk, compliments...they don't work. He stands at the edge of his comfort zone. He still sees nothing.

So he takes a step back, lets time pass and slowly fills the holes with his observations. One thing he notices: he's not lonely, but he's sad. A sorrow hangs over him and John has no idea how to get rid of it.

He dates someone with blue eyes and blond hair. She kisses well, gives warm hugs and smells amazing.

He introduces her to his friends. David pats him on the shoulders and waggles his eyebrows, Rox hugs him, but the only reaction he's truly interested in shows...nothing. Again.

Henrik buries himself in his studies. Sometimes, John wonders what will happen if he sweeps away the textbooks. Perhaps then he'll finally see a glimpse of him under that passive guise.

She isn't blind and knows something is wrong. Might be that he's taller than her and while she's smart, she's not as brilliant as John – certainly not as brilliant as Henrik.

When they break up, it's a mutual decision.

He wonders about the mystery woman, the one that has broken Henrik's heart. How can someone not realize they're holding gold? How can someone abandon him like that?

He isn't suffering from a broken heart. This is worse, this is hollowness. Something, someone is missing.

Rox takes one look at him and ushers him in. Her room is messy, but fortunately empty. He takes the bed, stares at the wall. The mattress dips and Rox embraces him. He slowly wraps an arm around her.

There are no tears. He still feels nothing and is tired.

She kisses his cheek and gives him space. He wraps her blanket tighter around himself and watches her work until his eyes close. Guilt gnaws at him. He knows she'll pull another all nighter and he won't be there to stop her.

"Slept well?" David asks the next day as he hands him a cup of cheap coffee. The grin he shows suggests he knows the answer already.

John grunts.

"Well, I had a lovely evening with Henrik."

He freezes. A whole evening?

"That man is a genius," he says, eyes lost in the memory.

It's a miracle he hasn't spilled any coffee over his hand. First Rox, and now David too?

"Are you all right?"

"...Yes," he lies. He's never been jealous of David before. There's a first time for everything.

Rox takes pity on him. She rarely takes pity on him.

"You're doing it wrong. You're focusing on the wrong thing." And she never gives advice of the heart.

That's when he realizes she's stopped teasing him – John, the third wheel. What he thinks is subtle, is in reality broadcasting loudly.

She rests a hand on his arm. "The only reason I've noticed is because we're close."

There's no anger in her eyes, only warmth.

He licks his lips, doesn't know what to say, what to do.

She pats him. "Why don't you join us in the library?"

He nods dumbly and follows her.

When he takes a seat opposite Henrik and listens to them exchanging mock exam answers, he finally understands.

From now on, when he talks to Henrik, it's through a medical conduit.

It works.

But here's the thing. Show him hope and he aches for more, always more until there's nothing left.

Time doesn't wait for anyone. Before he knows it, they split again, the four musketeers as some professors will remember them. Rox specializes in the brain and David in the heart. It makes no difference. They've become inseparable. And Henrik… one moment he's here, the next moment he's gone.

A tie bar is his only memento. John doesn't even wear suits. But he holds onto it. It's more precious to him than his thesis. In the end, the hypothesis is wrong. His professor is still impressed and rewards him. It's wrong. It's right.

He follows the news, subscribes to journals. His eyes are always drawn to alliterate H words.

The first time he catches his name he's carefully weaving through a reception, a necessary evil in his eyes. Awe and surprise surround a group of middle aged men in drab suits. They say, England has found her new prodigy. Greed takes hold of them.

John wants to hear more. See more. He wants to becloser to him, closer and closer until there's no distinction between them. The bubble bursts as they find another topic to gossip about, leaving him empty and bereft.

The mood that follows isn't unusual, but it lasts longer than a day. Lasts longer than a week. Two weeks pass and there's still no change. His stomach drops. He recognizes the signs. He's seen it in his father: he's lost his appetite, slept too much and drank alcohol to dull emotions and memories. There was no cure for him.

But the next day he feels better and ignores the past two weeks. He discovers a typo in his paper and doesn't correct it. He stares at it until his eyes are dry and his lungs scream to him to breath, please.

He obeys. And fixes the mistake.

Henrik will be proud of him.

The nurse hides a scowl behind his mask. The F1 holds out the instruments with shaking hands and keeps swallowing loudly. The anesthesiologist hasn't once met his eyes, too busy focusing on the vitals.

It doesn't matter what they're thinking. It doesn't matter that they rely on textbooks. They're afraid of innovation, of him thinking outside the box. He knows what he's doing and believes in himself. That should be enough.

The rush he feels when he's done is unlike anything he's ever experienced before. No, wrong, wrong, wrong. Absolute bliss is when he strokes himself until he spills on his own hand, his mind delirious with Henrik, Henrik, Henrik. The tears that always follow after a climax tastes like a cleansing.

The patient makes a full recovery.

He's taken a risk and is rewarded with the staff looking at him in awe and wonder. John understands now and silently thanks everyone for this valuable lesson.

Failure is not an option.

Three weeks now he seems to have time traveled. He's a student again, preparing for exams. Only bad coffee, his best friends, and pretending he doesn't need sleep keep him awake and focused.

But he's older now and can't ignore the symptoms any longer. He finds a therapist, a tall, lean man. The handshake is firm and his watch glints on his right wrist. John stares, transfixed. He has a Grecian nose, enhancing his handsome face. What are the odds? Perhaps the universe is sending him a message. Perhaps this is a test, meeting this man that can pass as his twin.

If the short, thick curls aren't blond-

John crosses his legs and hides the evidence straining his trousers. The other smiles, not intimidated by the silence. His eyes – brown, so very brown – stare straight into his when he evades his inquiries. He scribbles in his notebook when John asks him questions instead. He is genuinely curious and wonders how damaged he is. Just as surgeons make the worst patients, therapists have lived a full life, some more than others will experience in a lifetime.

But he plays the game well and always returns the focus to John. He chuckles silently. Rejected again and he's forced to see layers of barriers separating them.

After three sessions he asks that John should keep a sleep diary and passes him a recipe: antidepressants and a low dosage of anti psychotics. Like a docile patient, he picks up his medication. It's only when he's about to take them that he hesitates. John shrugs when he asks about it later. Whether he takes them now or a day later makes no difference: they need weeks until they start to work.

When he suggests they increase his sessions to twice a week, John grabs his phone, stares at it for a moment and says an emergency has come up.

The lie doesn't fool him, but it gives John the opportunity to leave. He resists the urge to grab him, kiss him and take him right here on the floor. A farewell present to himself. But no, there are certain lines he can't cross.

He never comes back. He throws the pills in the trash. He tears page after page, crumpling them up and launching them out the window, until the notebook is empty.

Some people benefit from therapy, but not John.

He's survived worse. It's about perseverance. It's about finding a purpose. It's about winning. Besides, his sleeping patterns have never been regular. He's always had difficulty falling asleep. Fatigue has been a constant companion for years now. It's better this way. While others sleep during the night, he puts the extra hours to good use. After all, he still needs to work hard to achieve his goals.

When he resists temptation again, he realizes it's the fourth time already. Ah, the four of them...Roxanna and David are doing so well now. He's collected their achievements and interviews. The maps are bulging. Whenever gloom strikes he stares at their wedding pictures until he feels the tiniest amount of joy.

And Henrik...well, the prophecies are true: he's become the youngest consultant in more than thirty five years.

His vision blurs. When the tears keep falling, he wonders when happiness has changed to sorrow and pain. It should be familiar to him by now.

Every time after he's done, when his body recovers and he stares at his hand stained with semen, tears always flow, his mind following close behind. The sudden change from happiness to despair, the loss of control, the sadness...

His computer pings. He's received a new e-mail, another reminder. Someone's noticed his presence and has approached him with a lucrative, but risky deal.

A part of him wants to accept, but another, far stronger part holds him almost sees Henrik in front of him, wincing in disgust and turning away from him.

That won't do. He gives his final reply: no.

He's attending a conference in Norway when he hears a name.

He stops leafing through the program and strains his ears. Surely his mind must be playing tricks on him-

No, it hasn't.

He turns and there she is. Time seems to slow down as he stares without blinking once. It's a miracle she hasn't noticed him.

The moment passes. Time resumes as the speaker appears on the podium. He slowly turns his attention to the dull man and ignores his heart beating loudly.

The booklet crumples up in his hand.

He's caught a glimpse of her name once in Henrik's notebook. The next time he leafed through the pages Henrik has already erased the evidence. That told him enough.

He already knows who she is but still feigns ignorance when they shake hands. It won't do for him to raise suspicion. She's prettier in the flesh. Her voice has a melodic quality. When she brushes aside a stray blond lock, pale blue eyes stare back at him.

He loses himself in her for a moment before she beckons someone over.

Her husband.

He can't be older than forty, but his crown is balding and his stomach is straining against his belt. Such a difference to Henrik's thick hair and lean body.

He quickly loses interest, sips his glass of tepid water.

When he fishes out a business card, John notices a picture of a child in his wallet.

He reads between the lines when they explain, how they say their child three times in three sentences. All these years, John's got it all wrong. Maja hasn't left Henrik, he has left her.

And this man, no matter how smart and successful he is, no matter how much he loves his wife and...well, child, he will always be her second choice.

John will never do that. It's either his first choice, or no one else.

Being alone isn't so bad.

He takes a leave afterwards, travels to Stockholm, visits one of the biggest pharmaceutical company. As said on the business card, he's the managing partner. The CEO isn't seen in public for years. He stumbles across many rumors – his age, his health in decline – but nothing is certain. His wife isn't mentioned anywhere. John wonders what else is hidden.

He spends a few day in the library digging in Henrik's past. He finds her identity. Hanssen. They share the same family name. There's no picture, but he imagines she must be pretty and kind.

He reads about Jews and Nazi experiments. It makes him think about good and bad, right and wrong, life and death.

The visit to the graveyard is made on a whim. Her place is clean and the nature surrounding it carefully trimmed.

His eyes linger on the dates. She was young when she died, too young for the cause of death to be natural. Henrik must have been a child when he received the news.

It's no wonder Henrik never talks about himself, why a cloud of sadness and guilt always follows him. A parent's death is never easy, especially if they have chosen to end their own life.

When he waits for the plane to leave and stares out the window, John thinks he understands him a little bit better.

He feels reborn once he's back and discovers it's not that hard to focus on onething and forget about everything else. Henrik is great at it too. It explains why he only focused on studying before and now only has eyes on his career. Henrik doesn't have to face the past this way. That burden must be crippling him.

John resigns. He never stays long in one hospital anyway. Henrik doesn't either.

He finds a tailor, ignores black suits and chooses blue. It takes some getting used to, but the tie bar helps. Every time he smooths down his tie, he lingers at his chest and wonders if Henrik's heartbeat – miles and miles away – is matching his.

He finds a new purpose: research. Every death, caused by disease or intentionally, can and should be prevented. John will make sure of it. The key is searching for a solution, a cure. The key is to find hope, and never to let go.

He's in America when the news hit him. Henrik's accepted another job in England, an average hospital far beneath his prestige. He's almost tempted to call him and ask if this is a joke. But they haven't spoken in...years, nor seen each other.

He's in China when he realizes a year has passed and Henrik's still there. One time he comes close to buying a ticket. But he's not ready. Not yet.

He's in Japan when he gets results that might lead to a breakthrough. During the last three days, he has slept seven hours in total. Still, he forces himself to join the celebrations. After all, the prognosis is looking good.

He answers the phone without looking at the screen.

"Hello John."

His mood lifts when he hears her voice.

They spend ten minutes catching up before Roxanna announces, "I'm going to see Henrik."

His breathing hitches. The grip on his mobile tightens.

"John, are you still there?"

He nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Yes."

He only retains about half of their conversation: something about a young, bright doctor and a tricky case.

He chuckles. Roxanna loves to cut away the damage at the source while he prefers to find a cure.

"Will you visit?" she asks.

He sobers but doesn't answer.

"David's not here, but it has been so long since we last saw you." There's no accusation, but concern drips from her voice.

He can't. there's research and he's in Australia – excuses, all of them.

She reads between the lines when he remains silent. "Well, take care. Speak to you soon."

He ends the call.

"It's hilarious!"

He chuckles. It's the first time he's smiled since...it must be days, now. Her joy is contagious.

"We pretend we don't know each other in front of others."

That is funny even if a part of him visibly recoils. He'll never pretend he doesn't know Henrik.

But then again, Roxanna isn't John.

Her laugh changes into a long sigh.

"You okay?" he asks. She hasn't talked about her case yet.

When she doesn't immediately answer, he knows the prognosis isn't good. Tumors are capricious, especially the ones growing in the brains.

"I have to go." Her lie is poorly disguised as an excuse.

He sighs but lets her go. She rarely pushes him. He'll be an awful human being, an awful friend, if he doesn't show her the same courtesy.

He calls Roxanna this time.

"Hey," he greets.

"Hi." Her voice is scratchy.

He's already calculating how much time he needs before he's there beside her. Some cases hit harder than others, every surgeon knows that.

Roxanna sniffles softly. "David has canceled his conference. We meet later today."

He blinks. That's even better. He loves Henrik dearly, but he is the worst at comforting someone.

Later, when he's alone with his thoughts, he realizes he hasn't offered her any consolation either.

Henrik strays a few times. He runs away from his problems – some things never change – but he always returns when the hospital needs him. And the hospital always remains, and comes out stronger. That place must mean a lot to him.

Still, John can't believe it. Henrik has finally earthed. He almost wants to take a leave, the first one in...he doesn't even remember the last one. Has it been that long?

It's for the better. He can't abandon his research now. He's so close now. He feels it. Something is about to happen.

He's right. After a few mishaps, Patient zero is found.

Everyone else will be happy, content even. But his mouth tastes bitter. The results need to be replicated again. Patient zero is only a name. Previous patients have borne it before him, and many will bear it later. And there's a void in him that can't be filled. Only one person can.

He still tries.

"This is Roxanna's phone."

"Hello Roxanna's phone."

And they laugh, a combination of his awful sense of humor and delight. He's missed David.

He's having a good day, but David doesn't recognize the tiredness in his voice and the flatness in his words. Distance and time do that to people.

He passes the phone to Roxanna. She cuts his greeting off. John instantly regrets calling her. He deflects her concern and ends the call, feeling even worse now.

He drops on the couch and stares at the wall, counts sheep, then stethoscopes. He loses count after 1200. He falls asleep dreaming of the remedy and a tall, thin, bespectacled figure standing in the shadows, forever out of reach.

What should be a short call changes into an hour and a half conversation. Three times he anchors David back to the present. Two times he reminds him who John is. Henrik is mentioned countless times.

"Promise you'll visit us." There's urgency in his voice. Time's ticking for everyone, even more so for David.

"Okay," he says and finds that he means it for once.

This happens at the same day he's finally managed to sleep for more than three hours uninterrupted.

He doesn't believe in signs. He's a man of science. But the next day Patient zero awakes and says that he's never felt so strong before – I feel reborn. When John carefully pokes his feet, the toes curl.

The dam breaks.

He spends the following week receiving hugs and endless thank you's and congratulations.

The impossible is made possible, a breakthrough in medicine that only happens once in a while. Just like that, he's famous. Hospitals offer him contracts, pharmaceutical companies tempt him with lucrative deals, publishers want him to write an autobiography.

He keeps every option open but only has eyes for a mediocre hospital in Bristol.

Someone from the HR department sends him their personnel files. In the detailed notes he recognizes Henrik's signature.

He spends thrice the time staring at his file, eyes only focused on the picture since he already knows the contents. He caresses his bespectacled face and smiles.

He finishes final preparations, obtains funding for his research, and takes a plane to England.

He's a small and standing in front of a window far above John. Roxanna joins Henrik and suddenly John's a student again, fascinated by this newcomer and trying so hard to connect with him. The same intensity almost floors him again.

Roxanna leaves. Henrik stays.

Isn't it ironic how focused he can be at inanimate objects – the boxes containing his equipment, the future – yet stares right through what's right in front of him?

Notice me, he pleads.

Henrik disappears from view.

It's surprisingly easy to slip through the gaps. He twists words here and there, shows a smile to others, walks as if he belongs here.

He wonders how easy it will be to change things here. Henrik has done so well already, but with John's help the hospital can be carried to even higher planes. John's already done it before. And now that the four of them are about to reunite... the possibilities are endless. They will shock and awe everyone.

He finds David first. David frowns at first, eyes empty and looking lost, but then his eyes light up.

They share a long, lingering hug.

Roxanna finds them like this, more amused than surprised. She embraces him with one arm, pats him on the back. He kisses her on the cheek and winks.

When their eyes meet, John freezes. He knows that look. It's the same one that stares right back at him when John, during a bad day, looks in the mirror and wonders what the use of living is. Finally, they have another thing in common. He treasures it.

His gaze lands on his tie bar. his eyes widen a fraction, but soon he schools his expression. Some things never change, even when decades have passed.

Two thing he vows to himself as they sit down. He will replicate the results of his experiment. He will not fail – never. More importantly, history will not repeat. Henrik will not abandon him again, he won't let him. This time, he won't be the helpless, young man. This time, he will get what he desires. This time, he will fix things. This time, he will hold onto hope.

Later that day Fredrik happens and everything goes downhill. Gaskell's insomnia and depression I totally stole from the actor since I have no imagination and this show has only recently started to give some actual clues that something's up. I'm probably reading way too much into this and have barely tackled it here but I won't be surprised if Gaskell does turn out to have mental health issues.